


Rite of Passage

by enigmaticblue



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair knew it was a rite of passage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rite of Passage

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt, "hazing".

Blair drove home, wincing every time he had to turn the steering wheel. Not only did he have a black eye, courtesy of that jerk, Thompson, but he felt as though he’d been run over by a truck. In addition to the wild elbow to the face, Thompson had been very enthusiastic when throwing Blair to the mat.

 

It _was_ possible that the elbow to the face had been an accident. Thompson had insisted it was, and had apologized immediately, but Blair knew Thompson’s type, and he’d been catching a lot of wild elbows, a lot of hits that had been harder than had been strictly necessary. Blair hadn’t expected hand-to-hand to be easy, and he’d seen a lot of his classmates sporting serious bruises like badges of honor.

 

But Blair had been the new kid, and had been a target of those bigger and more popular far too often, not to recognize hazing when he experienced it. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that his sparring partners had become a little rougher immediately after the last news cycle, or that he’d overheard Thompson boasting that he could take Blair’s pansy-ass with one hand tied behind his back.

 

And the recent announcement from the publishing house, apologizing for violating Blair’s intellectual property rights and Jim’s right to privacy, and then the police chief’s press conference commending Blair for his help in catching Franz Zeller, had put Blair right back into the spotlight.

 

And that meant Thompson—and people like him—felt like he had to beat Blair up to prove his place in the pecking order.

 

While Blair didn’t _like_ it, he did understand it, and he was working on not caring. In a couple of weeks, he’d be through the Academy, and he’d have his detective shield, something none of his classmates could clam. The detectives of Major Crimes had already accepted him, and Jim definitely wanted Blair as his partner.

 

So, Blair could deal with a little hazing from his classmates, as long as Jim didn’t go overboard with his blessed protector routine, which would be a lot easier if Blair could avoid his roommate for the next couple of days.

 

When he pulled up in front of their building, Blair groaned when he saw Jim’s truck. He’d hoped to have time to ice his rapidly swelling eye, hoping that it wouldn’t look quite so bad when Jim got home.

 

His momentary disappointment was immediately eclipsed by concern, however. Jim was supposed to be working late, which meant he was either sick, or was having trouble with his senses, or had been injured.

 

All of those possibilities meant that Blair would likely be dealing with a very cranky Jim, or an overprotective Jim, which was what Blair was looking at if Jim got wind of what had been going on the last couple of weeks.

 

Blair didn’t have the energy to deal with any of that right now, so maybe he’d be able to convince Jim to order in a pizza and not ask questions.

 

When he entered the loft, the lights were dimmed, and Blair called out softly, “Jim? You here?”

 

Jim’s hand appeared over the back of the couch. “Yeah, I’m here.”

 

“You okay, man?”

 

“Headache,” Jim explained briefly. “Simon sent me home early.”

 

Blair frowned. Simon was relatively understanding when it came to Jim’s senses, but he was also the kind of boss who would hand Jim a bottle of Advil and tell him to make the best of it. Blair walked around the couch and squatted down near Jim’s head. “Can I do anything? You need help with the dials?”

 

Jim opened one eye to look at Blair, and then both eyes opened wide before he frowned. “What the hell happened to you?”

 

“It was a wild elbow during hand to hand,” Blair responded dismissively. “We’re talking about you, Jim.”

 

Jim looked Blair up and down. “I have a headache, end of story. And that wasn’t just a wild elbow, Sandburg. Somebody punched you.”

 

“No, Jim, I’m telling you. It was an elbow. No big deal.”

 

“Your heart rate is elevated.”

 

Blair briefly wondered why he’d ever suggested that Jim could use his senses to become a human lie detector. “There’s a jerk in my class, that’s all.”

 

“Blair,” Jim said, struggling into a sitting position. “How bad is it?”

 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Blair assured him. “Seriously, I’ve been putting up with guys like that my whole life. I can deal with it.”

 

Jim didn’t look entirely convinced. “If you need help—”

 

“What are you going to do?” Blair demanded. “What _can_ you do?”

 

Jim sighed. “Nothing. But you can handle it.”

 

His tone made it something of a cross between a question and a statement, but Blair shrugged. “It’s two weeks, and when I’m done, I’ll have a detective shield. None of them can say that. This is just a rite of passage.”

 

“Which is probably half the problem,” Jim said knowingly.

 

Blair shrugged. “Hey, man. I’ve always been smarter or weirder or more successful with the ladies. This is just like high school all over again.”

 

“Maybe, but I’d prefer that you didn’t have to deal with those bozos.” Jim clasped Blair’s shoulder. “You know you don’t have to go through with this, Chief.”

 

“I’m not quitting now,” Blair shot back.

 

Jim smiled. “I didn’t think you would.”

 

When Jim winced, Blair suggested, “Why don’t you go take a shower? I’ll call for a pizza, and we’ll find a game on TV.”

 

Jim nodded. “Yeah, thanks, Sandburg. I’ll do that.”

 

Blair called for pizza, and collapsed back on the couch with a beer from the fridge. At least he had the weekend to look forward to; Jim was off for the next couple of days, too, if Blair remembered correctly. There would be chores to do, but Blair was looking forward to an otherwise lazy weekend.

 

He sighed when the house phone rang while the water was still running, and considered not answering it for a moment. Blair wasn’t built that way, however, and he levered himself up off the couch to pick up before the answering machine did.

 

“Sandburg,” he said.

 

“This is Simon, Blair. How are you?”

 

Blair would have recognized Simon’s voice even without the identification. “I’m fine. Jim’s in the shower right now, though.”

 

“I was calling to talk to you,” Simon replied. “How’s Jim?”

 

Blair’s eyebrows went up. “He has a headache, but I think he’s okay. What’s going on, Simon? What happened today?”

 

Simon sighed. “Some yahoos in patrol decided to be cute and blow a dog whistle on the seventh floor, and then a few more paraded by Jim’s desk after bathing in cologne. Jim managed not to react while they were around, but it set him off, and I sent him home.”

 

Blair pinched his nose. “Dammit. How long has this been going on?”

 

“On and off since the dissertation mess,” Simon admitted. “It had tapered off, but with the recent press conferences…”

 

Blair probably should have expected that, but he’d been too focused on his own problems at the Academy to inquire too deeply into Jim’s issues. “How bad?” Blair finally asked.

 

“It’ll all blow over in a few days,” Simon assured him. “There will be another piece of big news, and everyone will forget about Jim. I just wanted to be sure you were keeping an eye on him.”

 

“Always, Captain,” Blair promised. “No problem.”

 

Blair hung up the phone after saying goodbye and gave some thought as to what he was going to say to Jim. Blair had a pretty good idea of why Jim would avoid telling him about what had been going on at the station.

 

He waited for Jim to emerge from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. “Did I hear the phone ring?” Jim asked immediately.

 

Blair wasn’t surprised that Jim hadn’t listened in on the conversation, since he tended to dial everything down after he’d had a rough day. “That was Simon,” Blair replied. “Why didn’t you tell me what set you off?”

 

Jim sighed. “It was stupid. It was a couple of dumbasses thinking they’d be cute. No big deal.” When Blair raised an eyebrow in challenge, Jim winced. “And I knew you couldn’t do anything about it.”

 

“Fair enough,” Blair replied. “Can you handle it?”

 

“About as well as any other problem that comes up,” Jim admitted. “Yeah, I’ll handle it better when you’re around, but we’ve got two more weeks.” He offered a rueful smile. “What did you call it? It’s a rite of passage. They’ll harass me because they can get away with it, and because there’s nothing I can do without giving myself away. But I’m still top dog, and I’ll have the best partner on the force in a couple of weeks.”

 

Blair blushed, surprised and pleased at Jim’s words, although he probably shouldn’t be. Jim had prodded Blair to hire a lawyer to force Rainier and the publishing house to settle. He and Simon had prodded the police chief and the mayor to make a public announcement regarding Blair’s role in killing Zeller.

 

Well, a highly expurgated version of Blair’s role, anyway.

 

“How’s the head?” Blair asked.

 

Jim shrugged. “It’s manageable. It’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

 

Blair didn’t push it. They had worked through most of the mess surrounding Blair’s dissertation, but Jim’s senses were still a touchy subject. “You’ll let me know if you need help?”

 

“Sure, Chief,” Jim said, and his warm smile suggested that he was being completely sincere, which was an improvement even from just a month ago, when any offer of help was dismissed out of hand. “Good thing we have the weekend, huh?”

 

Blair nodded and touched his swollen eye ruefully. “Good thing.”

 

Jim began heading up the stairs. “Better put some ice on that eye. And Chief? Let me know if that guy keeps hassling you. I know where to hide the bodies.”

 

Blair grinned. “Once a blessed protector, always a blessed protector.”

 

“You know it,” Jim called from upstairs.

 

Stretching out on the couch, Blair put a bag of frozen peas on his eye and wished he could speed up time. In two weeks, he and Jim would be back to watching each other’s backs.

 

It was just another rite of passage, but Blair would be glad when it was over.


End file.
